My office beckoned. With composition book in hand, I sat at the desk which kept my laptop safe and charged. From the little clay flower pot next to the charger's transformer, I pulled out a pen topped with a silk flower and a comfortable grip. Deep within, I knew I'd be needing it.
I needed to purge myself of the poison I took today.
The heavy cardboard cover gave way to reveal a page of blue lines. The empty space cradled invisible words which would only appear when I used my magic wand of ink. Let the sorcery begin.
Neilsinhaur said to find threads of this life and that. Okay... the center of attention thing. And the people-- Padraic/Dmitri, Mara/Jet, Bride/Willow, Moire/Nita and Uncle/Grandpa. I could see those people easily within the constructed meditation. With that in mind, I could almost make sense of my back assward relationship with Willow-- how I seem the mature one while she's flighty, scattered and bossy. The fifty-something teenager.
But the anxiety, the wedding anxiety which keeps irritating me, that feeling could only be likened to when Ona found out about the impending invaders. Total unease, complete with a something-in-the-future-is-going-to-bite-me-on-the-ass sensation.
I was raped by someone my "betrothed" permitted. And emotionally abused me for it. Ona, however... Somehow it just doesn't equal out. The common thread being violation of our person. The scales are totally different, though.
My hand stopped the waving of magic ink-wand. It's so contrived, this ooh, explain it away because of something imagined crap. With the fires of skepticism lit, I lifted the pen again and continued on a new page. This entry, a rant about the two potential outcomes of past life regression.
Real or Imagined. Real or Guided. Real or Not.
The pen screeched its brakes-- Neilsinhaur did not guide me. I know he made a point of mentioning that fact before, but with the foul feeling being so pervasive tonight, the good doctor's words were back burnered. Until now.
No, he didn't guide me. Penn & Teller's BS episode on Hypnosis didn't clue me in on that contingency. Shit.
As I see it, I'm on the fence. Either it did actually happen and I repeated some really twisted patterns, or I imagined it all, using my life as a template for Ona's. She lost her parents, moved in with head patriarchal figure-- like I moved in with my grandparents when Willow and her then-husband took off for a few years to the wilds unknown. Ona was a total hussy where her man was concerned, just as I am to mine. And both Padraic and Dmitri were men displaced from their homes-- although voluntary on Dmitri's part.
I wonder if it were possible to find out if Ona or any of them lived? I would consider that a solid piece to the puzzle found, if the information correlated with the time period my regression indicated. Until then, I am filing it away as a figment of my imagination. In the same family of hallucinations that my grandfather experienced immediately after his car accident. But way more disturbing.
Damn it. I need a second opinion.
Tarot time.
My cards, based off a fourteenth century Italian deck, glittered with gold leaf as I removed them from the black silk bag which kept them safe. A gift from Willow, originally appreciated because each of the seventy-eight cards were an individual work of art. Later, when I delved into the book containing the meanings, did I actually develop a want to use them for their intended purpose. Not necessarily a means for telling the future, more of a means to show other perspectives.
Two decks in one, the Major and Minor Arcana. The Major dealt with things beyond our control, archetypes and parts of life's journey. The Minor represents the things in mundane life, of trials and tribulations. There were as many ways of reading tarot as there were decks and people. I found my method to be as dependable as one could want.
While I shuffled the cards, I repeated what I wanted to know in my mind. This reading, I focused on a grander picture. How will the regression affect my life? Determined hands kept the cards face down in my palm as I took groupings of cards and placed them elsewhere in the deck, all the while repeating my focus question. Satisfied the cards weren't in the same order as when I pulled them from their silken shelter, I cut the cards and removed the top three cards to reach the ones underneath. These were the ones to form my spread. Still face down, five cards were lined up. Three more cards above, three below and one off to the left hand side.
Although I've had the deck for ages, I preferred using a book when it came to individual card interpretation.
A memory forgets.
A book does not.
The first five cards represent the situation in a grand scope.
With trepidation, my fingertips grazed the heavy cardstock emblazoned with a creamy-gold filigree on black upon the backside, and I flipped the first card over to reveal the face.
Ten of Swords. Super. I don't need a book to know that I got the worst card in the deck. People get their knickers in a twist about the Devil or Death, but those cards are from the Major Arcana, that it's personal and internal transformation, of realizations beyond our influence. The Ten of Swords isn't in the lofty Major Arcana and means the lowest point one can go. The only other direction is up. Crash and burn, Baby. Whoo hoo.
Second card flipped. Death. Hahaha, I love when I choose awesome cards. Death, not physical. Demise of ideals and hopes, a period of change and adaption. Sometimes illness. Hey, at least it's not the Tower, right?
The Hermit hid under the third card. Time for reflection, a period of withdrawal and contemplation.
Next card, Queen of Chalices. Generally a female water sign in astrology. A woman of emotional loyalty. Happiness and success. Being that I'm a Pisces, I take that card to represent me.
Last card, the Ace of Wands. Birth, the start of something new. Freedom from restraints. Initiative, creative ideas and self-realization.
Okay. Not bad. What did I learn? I'll have a revelation after something shitty happens, then a firm foundation for progress. Gee, that makes almost too much sense, I wonder why I use the cards in the first place, other than to play Solitaire Captain Obvious...
I moved on to the top three cards flipping them over, one by one. These were what I have going for me, or things very evident.
Seven of Chalices. Wishful thinking, cloudy thoughts. Potential danger of making rash decisions. Me, rash? Ha.
The Sun. Optimism, contentment and joy. Accomplishment, success and fortunate marriage. I like that card, nice balance to the shittastic first card of my reading. Okay, moving along. Ten of Chalices. Lasting happiness, trusting family, honor and virtue.
So this first grouping of three cards means I'm fucking confused-- which is right, because I am, but that's offset by good things, like getting married. I can dig that.
My hand moved south. The lower three cards were what I have going against me or things unseen.
High Priestess, the card of intuition and secrets. Trusting one's gut instinct to navigate through mysteries. Also means something will be revealed. Tenacity and wisdom.
Then the Knight of Swords made his appearance and bitch-slapped the High Priestess. Misplaced confidence. Capacity for great vision but possibly unrealistic. Ho hum. Nice way to throw a wrench in the works. Also, being that the Knight is a court card, it generally represents a male fire sign. Which Dmitri is not.
Last card of this section, the Three of Coins. Success through time and effort, self improvement and artistic ability. Dignity.
The last card lay by its lonesome, waiting for me to grace it with attention. This card indicated the general outcome. Five of Chalices. Sorrow, mourning. Possibly the loss of a loved one. Failure to recognize the good in a bad situation.
Well, that sounds promising, doesn't it?
I looked down upon the cards spread before me and noticed a full third of them were Chalices. In modern parlance, they would be the suit hearts in a poker deck. The suit of all things relating to emotions and the heart. So me, overwhelmingly emotional. Seems par for the course.
My eyes didn't leave the spread out tarot cards until Dmitri entered the room and asked what I was doing.
"Thought it was self explanatory."
"Maybe, to a gypsy fortune teller." Dmitri made his way to his huge mahogany desk and sat in his computer chair. Then he scooted himself to my side of the room and parked near my delicate maple desk.
For a long moment I looked him in the eye before speaking. Could I tell him it all? "I did the regression thing today."
"That's why you were late tonight?"
"Yeah, and stopped by Jet's when I got out of Chico to do some wedding planning stuff."
Dmitri gestured toward the cards upon my desk. "So past life then fortune telling, and then everything is fine?"
"It's not for telling the future. Just another perspective on the situation."
"Why is it even a situation? That's borderline issue, right?"
"Maybe."
Blue eyes bore into mine and Dmitri spoke, "Will you tell me about it?"
"About what, the tarot cards?"
"You know what I mean. The regression."
A huge breath of air filled my lungs as I debated whether to tell him what I experienced in that doctor's chair. "It was horrible." Try as I might to keep tears from falling, I failed on that account. I could feel the trail down my cheek. "Beyond fucked up."
Death, rape, torture. Just another day in the neighborhood, yo.
"How so?" Dmitri's brow wrinkled with his concerned frown. He reached out a hand to lay atop my own in a subtle, comforting gesture.
"Ever have a dream that felt so real it taints your day? It was a lot like that. But worse."
"So you had a nightmare?"
I fucking wish.
"No. It was like a guided meditation-- but he only guided me to the door of my past life. When I walked over the threshold, everything but the past life disappeared. I was fully that person, knew the most trivial of things regarding that person's life. The shrink is putting forth that the trauma from that life-- which in all rights was truly traumatic-- as a lingering ghost of why I puked on you."
"What happened?"
Oh, you know, to save my life, you fucked me in front of a bunch of invading warriors, then you got sodomized. I didn't know it was you until we were locked in a tiny room where you died and I was left with the decomposing corpse and a corner full of shit until I too, kicked the bucket.
I must have given a visible indication of my experience because Dmitri then asked, "That bad you won't tell me?"
"Yes. Worse, even."
"Was I there?"
I wanted to tell him no, he had no part in my mind fuck. But I'd be lying.
"You were." My voice sounded harsh. "We even got married before it all went to shit."
"Was I the reason it went to shit?"
"Not at all, but you blamed yourself. You were as much a victim of circumstance as I."
"Will you please tell me what happened?" There were few moments where Dmitri genuinely wanted to get into my head. The man did not play with shovels, he preferred an excavator.
I have no secrets from him, and I won't start hoarding them now. "The day after we got married, you, myself and what remained of my family tried running before the bad guys showed up. We didn't make it. My cousin and I were spoils of war, and you a toy."
"What does that have to do with the vomiting in public?"
Ohhh. Specific questions, how I try not be be irked by thee. "The feeling I got right before I puked on you is identical to the feeling I had in the regression thing when shit it the fan regarding me being a spoil of war."
"I'm trying to follow what you are saying... so the feeling you had was identical to when you threw up on me and when you saw Mike again?"
I swallowed the knot forming in my throat. "Yes."
"But Mike wasn't in your past life?"
I don't know... Landross came across being a concentrated dose of sadism, more so than Mike. As much as it would please me to link those who have touched me deeply in my life, good or bad, to Ona's experience... I just can't reconcile myself to Landross and Mike being the same. As much a jerk as Mike happened to be, it wasn't the same brand of pure evil as Landross.
Which brought me to the thought that no matter how I answer, Dmitri is probably going to end up hurt. He was there, the good guy was there... but the abusive ex wasn't, the bearer of horrid feeling conspicuously absent. I know Dmitri was not the reason I hurled chunks. "I did not recognize Mike there."
Furrows grew in Dmitri's brow as puzzlement overtook his face. "So it was me."
"No! You are not why I got triggered the way I did... I know that as a fact. I can't explain it, but you are not the cause."
"But if Mike wasn't there, and I was... How could it not be me, then?"
"Because I know it wasn't you that caused that feeling. Maybe it was just the situation, of being center stage with everyone looking at us."
"Why would that do it? Won't we be center stage at the wedding? Should I wear a rain slicker instead of a tux?"
"Do you plan on handing out tarps to the front row guests? Because I don't plan on hurling, would hate for them to feel they got shafted at a Gallagher show." I'm trying to be serious with Dmitri. Him taking things lightly started to piss me off so I resorted to sarcasm instead of bitchiness. Already emotionally wound up from the session with Neilsinhaur, then with the whirlwind planning via Jet... somehow mentioning details of the past life such as Padraic raping Ona atop a table while invading Englishmen looked on, just seemed a shoddy thing to do.
"I don't know what I'll do, Kay. I mean, you don't really care about the wedding... you say I was in your past life but Mike wasn't, but it wasn't me that instigated your upset stomach. So far, as I see it, the common denominator is me."
I couldn't refute a single word he threw my way. Dmitri was right.
"Just so we're on the same page, I care more about the marriage than the wedding. Maybe it's me, maybe I'm silly, perhaps even cracked. I want to make everyone happy, Dmitri. Especially your folks. You've broken a few traditions already, and when you marry me and we don't have any kids, that'll be one more cultural custom thrown to the wind. For me, what makes me happy in all this, is that the wedding serves as a gateway into the wide world of marriage. A fraction of what the main event is, so why should I get preoccupied with a tiny moment in the scale of things when there's so much more to look forward to experience with you?" I shrugged my shoulders. "I'm odd. I know. Pretty sure you knew that when you signed on for this train wreck."
Note to self: bad choice of words.
"Train wreck? Us getting married is a train wreck?"
"No. Me. I'm a train wreck waiting to happen. Thought you knew."
"What the fuck did that shrink do to you? Few days ago you had a color scheme, and destinations picked out. Now you could give less than half a shit. I hate to break it to you, Kaylis, but men do look forward to their wedding, too. It's not just a mainstream female thing."
It felt like he was attacking me, it put me on defensive. "Oh, you could have fooled me. Thought the comment you made about telling you when and where so you could show up indicated that the details didn't really count and just us getting hitched mattered. Silly me for not reading your mind." I gestured to the tarot cards still laid before me. "And damn these things for not telling me you wanted to help pick out the flowers." Irked, I began scooping them up to put back in their pouch.
"I want to know what happened to you, Kaylis. Something has changed. How can I understand if you won't tell me?"
I looked him straight in the face and asked, "You really want to know? Because I can guarantee you will not like it. And maybe you can just stow the knowledge away and be fine, but I can't." I picked up the composition book and flashed Dmitri the dozen or so pages of angry writing. "The therapist gave me this so I could purge myself, try to make sense of things. Because it sucked."
Dmitri grasped both my hands with his. "I want to know. If it affects you, then hell yes, I want to know."
So I told him. First in detail about the two childhood dreams. Then blow by blow of what happened in Neilsinhaur's office. From walking down the stairs haunted by the thuds of Ona banging against her prison door, to the door and the pillar o'doom from my dream. To the abyss and then Ona's life. Her excitement and trepidation of getting what she wanted. Of the saucy night in Padraic's arms to the death of her sisters. Hiding in fear and being found. Of watching her cousin being raped. The hardest part was telling Dmitri about the rape by threat of death. Of waiting in the tiny room for something to happen. Then blissful death.
Through it all, Dmitri never removed his eyes from mine and tightened his hands on mine in a comforting gesture when it came to the parts I verbally stumbled over. When I finished with Ona's death by starvation, Dmitri spoke.
"Wow."
"Yeah. Just imagine living through that, experiencing it all via Ona's perspective. That's where I am."
"She doesn't set a great example of marriage between us, does she?"
"Neither does my mother, but I'm still happy as a clam to be with you."
"So... do you think it's real? You and me back in the day?"
"I don't know. I'm leaning towards induced hallucination rather than past life. Unless there's a way to prove those people existed at the time and locale, then I'm going to err on the side of safety." Last thing I want to do is emulate Willow and fully embrace other time periods with reckless abandon and no proof.
"In that case, you just put yourself through imagined hell for what?" Anger started to seep into Dmitri's tone as he tried to make sense of my mind.
I can't say I did it to keep Willow from putting her stamp on the wedding, although that was a tiny factor. Morbid curiosity? That works. "Because I wanted to do something, anything to make sense of me messing up when you proposed."
"How's that working for you?"
I shot him a look of disgust at the sarcastic tone radiating from Dmitri's voice. Gee, thought it was evident how well its working out for me. "You tell me."
Dmitri scooted his computer chair back. "I will tell you what I see. I see someone who has cold feet and finding excuses to justify them."
What the fuck? "Excuse me? Did I not inform you like ten minutes ago that we are getting married? That I'm all yay marriage, meh wedding? Yeah, at first, I went to Willow's therapist to fulfill my end of our deal. But now, having seen or imagined or whatever, yeah. Sorry the wedding doesn't mean as much to me as it does to you. But I hope that me thinking marriage is more important than a single day acts to balance that blow to your pride. I don't think I'm likely to change my tune about that any time soon. Sorry." My demeanor bordered belligerent rather than penitent.
My voice softened after I drew a deep breath. "You have no idea what it's like to close my eyes and see those horrific things. I don't even know if they actually happened, Dmitri. That's what bothers me most... whether I imagined it all or whether it really happened. I just don't know anything other than yes, it has changed my perspective on the importance of the wedding ceremony versus the marriage itself although the reality of the experience is up for debate."
I sighed deeply. "My frame of reference is somewhat jaded, Dmitri. I admit that. Between Willow's husbands, I witnessed a wide variety of marital behaviors I know you won't subject me to, but still I'm a little wary. This is new, uncharted waters. The only constant I have is you."
"I don't like you referring to the wedding ceremony as your attempt at an Oscar. I find that insulting, really." Dmitri's voice dripped disdain.
"Fair enough. I can understand why you would find that particular phrasing not to your liking. It was not intended as a hurtful statement."
"I also think you are taking this past life regression stuff too seriously."
"That's a possibility. I don't like that I envisioned her life. I could do without it polluting my brain. I mean, seriously. Just talking about it makes me think I smell the stench of decay. That's how real it was, Dmitri. Willow said I'd be feeling foul for a couple days, so perhaps this anxiety towards the wedding ceremony will mellow. It's what I'm hoping for. Already have mixed feelings that I'm not all rawr-wedding-time! This conversation hasn't really helped that, either. But whatever. You can marry me or not. As long as you are content to be with me I'm content to be with you. If me wanting the main course instead of drooling over the appetizer upsets you so, my bad. I was just being honest."
There. Cannot be more blunt than that.
"So it doesn't matter to you if we marry or not? At all?"
Pretty much. "I'm happy that you asked me to marry you. I'm thrilled that you decided you wanted me as a life mate. Being with you matters. Everything else is frosting on the Dmitri cake."
"You're saying we could not get married and you'd still be happy?" I hope Dmitri's head doesn't explode from that revelation.
"Kinda. Marry me, let's have a party to celebrate. Don't marry me, let's have a party and celebrate. As long as we're both happy about being together, do the rest of the details really matter that much?"
A long, uncomfortable pause before Dmitri spoke. "It matters to me."
"I'm not a traditional kind of girl. Thought you were aware of that quirk."
"It's different. In Croatia, weddings are lively. Everybody is excited. Festivities, parties, luncheons and dinners... a week of partying hard. At the actual ceremony, guests are greeted with a shot of alcohol and a sprig of rosemary. Vows, then dancing, more alcohol and general merriment. That's my frame of reference, that's kinda what I want with you. I want you to be excited and happy about your wedding day. I plan on marrying only once and you are who I've chosen. Let's grow toothless and senile together."
"I wish I had gotten some of that action instead of watching Willow run away from abusive, addict assholes after repeated eloping to Reno."
"You don't talk about that much."
"There's not much to say about it." Suffice it to say I'm happy I'm not with any sort of man that bears resemblance to my platoon of stepfathers. "She doesn't talk about her first husband at all. My sperm donor was a drug dealer who got arrested in Mexico and locked up for years. She divorced his ass. Her next husband beat the shit out of her and kept her fucked up on booze and pills so she wouldn't run away from him. Grampa put an end to that when he found out how bad it was. Her last husband... he was a creep. Big time, Uncle McTouchy-Feely creepster. They drank themselves stupid until he tried selling some of my grandmother's jewelery to pay off gambling debts. Uncle Pat and his Magical Fist of Convincing ended that notion. Since then, Willow avoids men. Can't blame her."
"We aren't like that. You're a lot like your mom, but with much better taste in men."
What now? "I'm not like my mother." Them's fighting words.
"Yeah you are, just toned down a lot. Her backyard's clone is in our living room. The only difference is that your plants don't produce food. You make and sell tie-dye... don't tell me you didn't learn that from her. Even some mannerisms. And now you can add 'experiencing past lives' to your shared resume."
Wow. He certainly put some thought into that.
"I don't like being compared to my mother any more than you like me referring to earning Oscars." I gestured to the now-closed notebook and my flower pen of power. "You know, I'm emotionally tapped out tonight. Think I'm going to go crash. Goodnight." I'm not irresponsible. I'm not a flake. I am not like my mother. As much as I love her, damage was done. Had my grandparents not stepped in and got me away from the chaos my mother and stepfathers kept creating, I don't know what would have happened to me. Whenever Willow would get on a bender, Grampa was there to whisk me away to the ranch until she sobered up enough to be a mother. Got to the point I just stayed out there. For years.
Should I ever raise a child, you can bet your ass I won't be pounding Prince Valium and Jose Cuervo in a menage a tois. For Dmitri to insinuate I'm like Willow-- very not cool.
Dmitri said nothing as I got up and left the too-crowded office and meandered to the bathroom for a long shower. After drying off and donning a black cotton knee-length chemise, I snatched a pillow and lightweight blanket so I could crash on the couch.
I bypassed Dmitri when he walked into the bedroom. "Where you going?"
Slowly I turned around and told him what I thought. "I don't think I'm going to sleep much better tonight that I have for the past week. I don't want to keep you up again, so I'm crashing out here tonight. Good night." Resumed walking to the living room.
Dmitri didn't say a word.